Tuesday, August 9, 2011


Well that one sure got dated fast. Credit rating? And ... twenty-three skidoo. What a time. England is melting. They need a little Kent State action, get things under control. I haven't read anything much of Ann Coulter, but she seems, a lot, to be right. Smash the mob. Detroit never recovered from its riots. Whatever the means, quiet meditation or radical surgery, cancer needs to be killed. Parents: assert your authority upon your teenager, or s/he is liable to be shot dead like a dog in the street under martial law. But that's a fantasy. Churchill was alive when I was a boy, but I'm old now.

Leadership? I do have to say that I just saw Rick Perry, gov of Texas, and soon-to-be-announced candidate for the currently-vacant office of President of the USA. That is one fine looking man. Right out of Central Casting for what a Pres should look like. On top of that, he seems actually to be, uh, competent ... not a requirement apparently for the job, for all that it is a qualification. As opposed to, oh, say, this guy:
The two flanking characters, in green, are Mr. and Mrs. America, appropriately androgynous in this craven new world.

I'm up before 6 AM most mornings, and I get to bed, after I eat, around midnight, and I don't fall asleep right away, at all, so I'm generally chronically sleep deprived. Cuts into my energy. I finally figured out that this is a major reason I'm just not motivated enough to do strength training. Can't neglect it, but it's hard enough without the somnambulance.

Even so, and through a recurring depression, I see cause for gratitude, for thankfulness. Last night I was stricken with the powerful memory of my little son's pet frog -- taken from the mountains and kept in a terrarium. I was stricken, I say, with guilt -- it was neglected and underfed. Finally I drove back into the mountains and let it free. Eighteen years ago, and I felt the need to beg forgiveness, last night. That's what it's like to be me. I just can't let go of these things. That, and a tendency toward procrastination that amounts to abandonment, and an urge to isolate ... not such a good prognosis.

Even so, I think of myself as an optimist -- a pragmatic optimist. I don't see how I can ever rejoin society in a normal way, but such things happen, feeling like catastrophe but just a, oh, let's call it a market correction. I'm too young yet, too hormonal, to want to be alone forever. Just another area of neglect. But here, in America, we chose our destiny.

Oh by the way, you know that Diana Ross song, "Upside Down"? (I only know the title because I googled it.) It has the lyric, "Respectfully I say to thee I'm aware that you're cheatin'." It really bugs me. First, the illogic of claiming to be respectful in that context. I respect you, and you are a cheater. Respectfully, you suck. Then the attempted formality of the formulation, combined with the colloquial "cheatin'". But most, and really really the most, is the THEE. Respectfully I say to thee. Thee is the second person singular familiar objective pronoun in English. It's dropped out of usage, but it's the way you'd speak to children and dogs and family members. Tu, du, etc. Hitler never used the familiar case. See? It is not just inept. It's contradictory. So there's that. It bugs me.

I was just going to use my hotmail account to send an email, but it seems I am the only contact listed, aside from drunkgirlroom and freshteengirls. Now, while teengirls are fine and all that, the only thing drunkteengirls are good for is having sex with, and they're not even good for that, in the sense of good that I mean. Please refer back to a previous paragraph, where I urge the execution of all criminals, whether rioters or internet hackers.

Just staying in touch. What would you do without me?


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